But Lissa is weeping hysterically.
“What, crying when the danger is over? This is not the time to cry. What is it for, little girl?�
“O Nate, Nate—Nate! I—can’t help it! I—I’m—so happy! I—I’m so glad!� she sobs.
“There, there, give me the baby. Your nerves are all unstrung, that is certain, and small wonder at it. But what’s this? What’s the matter with your hands? Why, child, they are all blistered and burned. What have you been doing?�
“I—I fought the fire,� falters Lissa.
“My poor child!�
“I beat it back just as long as I could,� she pants.
“And divided it, and saved our home! I understand all now,� Nathan answers in broken tones.
“No, it was the yards, I think. It was a miracle. I only beat it out up to the road.�
“And kept it on that side. But these poor hands must be looked after. Aren’t they paining you?�